“Who are you and what do you want?” Sam bravely yelled at the man that seemed to be in charge.
“Are you really that stupid?” he asked, shaking his head. “I am the assassin.”
“Oh.” There was nothing more to say.
“You know,” he continued, “you really should not make strangers welcome and tell them exactly where you are headed when there is someone out to kill you.”
“So why haven’t you killed us yet and who are these freaks?” Sam asked, pointing at the men around her.
“I needed to make your deaths look natural so I bargained with these brigands. They get to keep the gold you are carrying in the coffin and I get to watch them kill you all. Just another group of travellers killed by bandits. These are only some of the group. The rest are attacking your friends as we speak.”
When she listened carefully, Sam could faintly hear the sounds of a fight coming from the direction of their camp. Nizari sighed. “I feel like a bit of fun. How does this sound. I give you and your little elf friend a head start, then we hunt you down. So much nicer than killing you in cold blood where you stand.”
“But he can’t even walk,” Sam protested.
“Not my problem. I suggest you start moving or you will not be able to get very far before we come after you.”
“Leave me,” Brin said through clenched teeth.
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen,” Sam replied and started moving through the trees, Brin leaning heavily on her shoulder as he limped along beside her. Both knew they would not get far, but anything was better than standing still and waiting to be executed.
“What was that?” Patrick asked, springing to his feet.
“I am not sure,” Ellen said, listening intently. “It sounds like someone approaching, but I do not think it is Brin or Sam.”
“Wake the others,” Patrick instructed as he headed towards the wagon. He had his sword in his hand but wanted another close by, just in case.
Everyone was fully armed by the time the bandits ran into the camp, shouting loudly as they did so. Though outnumbered two to one, Tor was not worried. These did not appear to be seasoned fighters and he had survived worse odds than that many times.
“Keep behind me.” Patrick instructed Ellen.
“Remember you are mortal now,” she replied.
The bandits circled them menacingly, but made no attempt to attack.
“Hand over the gold and we will let you live,” one of them shouted out. His accomplices grinned. He was lying and everyone knew it.
“What gold?” Nosmas shouted back.
“We have been reliably informed that the coffin is filled with riches. Why else would you be travelling with it?” Nosmas almost told him the truth, but decided these men would not believe the coffin contained a live vampire.
One of the bandits rushed at the wagon. Quartilla, who was standing in it, dived across the coffin, using her body weight to prevent the lid being moved. Nosmas cursed and shouted out a spell, pointing towards the coffin. The armed man pushed Quartilla away and pulled on the lid, but found it stuck fast. Angrily he made a grab at the girl, but Seth was there and skillfully skewered the attacker with his sword.
The temporary campsite erupted with fighting. The defenders were successfully holding the attackers off, easily killing or wounding the inferior fighters, but more kept appearing. Ellen was firing fire balls in all directions, but these acted more as a distraction than a real weapon. The heat they produced did no more than singe hair and clothing instead of igniting and she was forced to avoid anyone involved in close combat for fear of harming her friends.
For this reason, Nosmas opted to use his physical strength instead of magic, using a large club to hit the bandits, breaking heads and limbs, while also using it to shield himself against attack. Dal, too, was defending herself well. She had kept up her weapons training and had become quite skillful. While she was not making any offensive manoeuvres, her defensive ones were adequate and her over-confident attackers kept making fatal errors.
As soon as the attack had started, Grimmel had thrown a protesting River under the wagon, ordering her to stay there. While Seth and Quartilla defended from on top of the wooden vehicle, Grimmel defended it from the ground, using his short sword to stab and slash at the attackers legs.
Ria was in her element, using a combination of her unarmed combat ability and her knife skills to kill everyone who came near her. She had received a few flesh wounds, but nothing that was causing her any significant problems.
Tor easily defeated his opponent then looked around for another. It looked like the tide was turning in their favour and he gave himself a moment to catch his breath before joining Patrick, who was facing three of the bandits. They dispatched one each, leaving only one for Patrick to take care of. Tor looked around once more and swore loudly. More bandits were approaching, far too many for his tired group to defend themselves against. If he did not think of a way to get his friends away from them soon it was going to be a bloodbath.
None of those fighting at the campsite noticed that Sam and Brin were missing; they were too busy trying to stay alive. Knowing that heading towards their friends would be pointless, they went in the opposite direction, hoping to lead as many of the bandits after them as they could. Every one that followed them was one less that Tor and the others would have to face; at least for a while.
Sam was almost dragging Brin when they came across a wooden structure. It was a small hunter’s hut and was currently empty. The door was not locked, so Sam took Brin inside and he collapsed onto the floor. It was an obvious hiding place, but Brin would be unable to keep moving and Sam wanted to look at his leg. The makeshift bandage was soaked with blood and the red stain was spreading down his trousers. Sweat poured from him and his breathing was laboured as he fought to control the pain.
“Get out of here,” he hissed at her from between clenched teeth. “You might be able to make it to clear ground where you can call to Salabine for help. If she is close enough you may make it out of here alive.”
Sam ignored him and looked around the hut for some cloth. Dressed in just a chemise, trousers and boots, she was unable to use any of her clothing for another bandage. She found a shirt that appeared to be clean and ripped it up. She untied the soaked remains of her blouse from around Brin’s leg, wincing when she saw how inflamed the wound had become. There was no water in the hut so she could not clean it. It would soon become infected if not treated properly, but she expected them both to be dead before that became a concern. She redressed the damaged leg then helped Brin sit up, propping him up against a table.
He held out his arm and she snuggled down beside him. “Is it my fault Dean stayed in Yallend?” Brin asked. He had not had the courage to ask previously and, as they were soon going to die, now seemed like the right moment.
“No,” she assured him. “It’s mine. He told me he could not bear to see me if he could not touch me, so staying behind seemed like the best idea.”
“I can understand that,” Brin said. “I know I could not have travelled with you if you had chosen him instead of me.”
“We are not going to make it out of here alive, you know.” She was amazed at how calm she sounded.
“I know.”
“What will happen to Kat?”
“Do not worry. Brianna will take good care of her. When word of our deaths reaches her she will treat our daughter as her own,” he told her confidently.
Sam smiled. Now that she knew her daughter’s future was secure, she found she was no longer afraid. “I bet you wish you had stayed at home instead of getting back together with me.” She was only half serious.
Brin took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. She had never seen him looking so pale. “Getting back with you is the best thing I have ever done,” he told her sincerely. “I would rather die here with you by my side than live a long life without you.”
Further conversation was interrupted by a sh
out from outside. “We know you are in there. You cannot escape. Come out and surrender to us or we will burn the place down.”
Sam and Brin stared at each other. “What do you want to do?” she asked.
“If it is my time to die, I would rather not hide from my fate like a coward.”
Sam nodded. She felt the same way. She glanced towards his bow, which was lying on the floor beside them. Nobody had tried to remove it from the elf before they were allowed to depart and Sam had been permitted to take the discarded sword that had belonged to the man Brin had killed. ‘To give you a sporting chance’ Nizari had said.
“How many do you think you can kill before they get us?” she asked.
Brin winced as he tried to stand. “In my present condition, two, three at the most. You?”
“One, if I am lucky.” She had been practicing with the sword, but lacked both skill and strength.
“Then we will be taking some down with us. Help me up.”
Sam did as instructed, putting his arm around her shoulder and using her legs to lift him upright. He leaned against the table as she retrieved his bow and fixed the quiver onto his back. There was no need for words, so silently Sam opened the door and they hobbled out into the open to meet their doom.
Chapter 11
As Sam and Brin stepped out into the sunlight, a voice called out. “Drop your weapons.” Ignoring the instruction, they slowly made their way around the hut, Sam practically dragging Brin. Only then did they realise the order was not directed at them.
From out of the trees, soldiers appeared, dressed in the colours of the Emvale army. Some of the bandits tried to fight, but most did as instructed, dropping their swords and clubs onto the ground and holding their hands above their heads in surrender. Relief sapped his remaining strength and Brin sank to the ground, dragging Sam down with him. They remained where they were, unmoving, until all of the bandits were either under arrest or dead.
One of the soldiers walked over to them and bent down to examine Brin’s leg. “One of my men knows some basic healing,” he informed them. “I will get him to take a look at this.”
Sam shook her head. “We have friends the other side of these trees. One is a witch. Can you carry him to her?”
“Of course,” the soldier said and effortlessly picked up the injured elf.
“If they are still alive,” Sam muttered as she stood up to follow them.
When they arrived at the camp site, the fighting had just finished. Hearing sounds of combat, some of the soldiers had headed towards them while the rest continued to pursue the bandits they had been following since their incursion into Emvale.
All of Tor’s company had suffered minor injuries, except for River, and Ellen set about assessing each of them in turn. River had remained under the wagon during the entire length of the fight, closely guarded by Grimmel. Once the fight was over, he had held out his hand to her and she had gratefully accepted it. “Thank you,” she said as he helped her off the ground. “You saved my life.”
“And I will continue to do so as long as I live,” he informed her and kissed the back of her hand before releasing it. He made no other attempt to touch her, for which she was grateful. It was going to take a lot more than just saving her life for her to forgive him for his betrayal.
When Ellen spied Brin being carried over to her, she stopped her examination of Tor’s shoulder, which was badly bruised, and rushed over to him. She took one look at his leg and started issuing orders. “Nosmas, I need a fire. Seth, needle and cotton. Patrick, get my bag. Someone get me some water and a clean cloth.”
“Will he be alright?” Sam asked as she knelt beside him, squeezing his hand tight.
Ellen smiled. “He will be just fine. He has not lost too much blood and the wound just needs cleaning and stitching. It is going to hurt though, so I need to make a brew that will put him to sleep for a while.”
“No,” Brin said, with obvious effort. “I can cope. Just get it tied up as soon as you can.”
Nosmas overheard the comment as he approached to inform Ellen that he had set a pot of water to boil. One look at her face told him all he needed to know. She did not want to start work on Brin’s leg while he was awake and did not have the energy to fight with him about drinking the sleeping potion. He knelt on the ground beside the prone elf, took his head in his hands and whispered a spell. Brin’s eyes closed and he lapsed into unconsciousness.
“What have you done?” Sam asked in alarm.
“He is just sleeping,” Nosmas assured her. “I do not like using that spell, but Ellen needed him asleep and he was obviously not going to agree. It will do him no real harm, but he will have a very bad headache when he wakes up.”
Smiling her thanks, Ellen took a knife that Ria offered her and sliced Brin’s trouser leg, pulling the ruined cloth away from the wound. Quartilla placed a bowl of water beside her and handed her a cloth. Once the wound had been thoroughly cleaned, Ellen smiled at Sam. “There is no muscle damage. This will be as good as new by tomorrow.” Taking the threaded needle from Seth, she began to sing a healing charm as she worked.
“What do you want from this?” Patrick asked Ellen, dropping her bag on the ground beside her.
“Can you remember how to make the poultice I showed you last year?” Patrick nodded and took the bag closer to the fire, selecting the correct ingredients and dropping them into the boiling water. When he was happy with the colour and consistency, he removed the leaves with a spoon, blowing on them to cool them down. When he was able to touch them without burning his fingers, he poured a little honey over them, kneading them into a sticky paste. This Ellen applied to the closed wound before re-bandaging it with fresh cloth.
“There will not even be a scar,” she told Sam, who was wiping Brin’s face with a damp cloth. Sam nodded her thanks, but did not take her eyes off Brin.
While this was going on, Tor had been helping the soldiers question the captured bandits. The soldiers knew that a large group of bandits was encamped just over the border into Dannavon, so they patrolled regularly. It had been by sheer luck that they had spotted them entering Emvale and decided to follow, curious as to what would cause them to leave the relative safety of Dannavon.
The bandits told them everything, from the assassin first entering their territory, to the bargain they made with him. They got to keep all of the gold in the coffin in exchange for them killing everyone guarding it.
Tor was not happy with what he heard and called all of his friends to gather around the fire once the bandits had told all they knew. He explained what he had been told and Sam surprised him by saying she already knew. She spoke of what had befallen her and Brin, from when they first spotted the bandits, to being rescued when they thought they were about to die.
“It was the assassin,” she said. “He was the stranger who joined us for a meal and we unwittingly told him exactly where he could lay this ambush.”
Tor described the man to one of the soldiers, requesting that he be brought to him immediately. “Now we will find out who hired him,” he said, rubbing his hands together in delight.
He was soon disappointed, however. No bandit matching that description had been captured alive and none of the corpses could be identified as the assassin either.
“Frack,” Patrick exclaimed, then threw a guilty look at Ellen. “That means he is still out there somewhere, looking for another opportunity to strike.”
“Yes,” Tor confirmed. “We need to start being more cautious.” He then turned to address one of the soldiers who was standing nearby, requesting that they remain on guard duty until sunset so they could get some sleep before heading off once more. The soldiers were happy to accommodate them, even joining them for a bite to eat before darkness descended.
They were relaxing by the fire, waiting for Hawk to awaken so they could let him know what had happened before they continued their journey, when they were disturbed by a loud banging coming from the wagon.
“Wh
at is that?” Patrick asked and Nosmas burst out laughing.
“I forgot to remove the spell,” he explained. “Hawk cannot get out.” He was still chuckling when he jumped into the back of the wagon and spoke the spell that would release the lid.
“What is going on?” the vampire yelled angrily.
“Calm down,” Nosmas said, still grinning. “Come and join us by the fire and I will explain.”
“This had better be good,” Hawk snapped. He followed Nosmas to where the others were waiting and noticed Brin’s unconscious body lying beside Sam. “What happened?” he asked, all anger gone from his voice.
Between them, they told him everything. He listened in silence, his mood darkening as time went on. “Where is the assassin now?” he asked when he had been told the full story.
“We don’t know,” Sam said.
“I am going hunting,” Hawk announced, standing up. “If he is still around, I will find him. I suddenly have a craving for human blood.” He was about to take to the air when he paused and looked at Nosmas. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. “If it had not been for your spell I would not be speaking to you now.”
“No problem,” Nosmas replied.
“But next time, please remember to let me out again. Being trapped inside a coffin is not a pleasant experience, even for a vampire.”
“Hopefully there will not be a next time.”
The decision was made not to wait for Hawk to return; there was no need. He would easily find them. He was gone for a few hours and returned disappointed. He could find no sign of the assassin anywhere. Nobody believed the man had given up; he would try again sooner or later.
A short while later, Brin opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the sky. He started to sit up, but was forced to lie back down as pain shot through his head. “How are you feeling?” Sam asked him.
“My head feels like someone hit it with a hammer. What happened?”
“Nosmas put a spell on you to knock you out.” Brin started swearing and made to sit up again, but Sam pushed him back down. “Keep still. We are due to stop soon and Ellen will give you something for the pain. How does your leg feel?”
The Assassin Page 12